Top of the World
by jumpstreetgirl
Summary: Teague wonders what he had done wrong as he watches Jack die. Song fic of the Dixie Chicks. Rated T for thematic elements, language and some sensitive subjects. R&R if you got the time. Completed!
1. Chapter 1

Top of the World

_I wished I was smarter, _

_I wished I was stronger, _

_I wished I loved Jesus, _

_The way my wife does... _

I sat by Jackie's side, running my wizened hands through his messy long hair. It had been ages since I had last done that, when he was a baby. He looked as helpless as one; he laid in a bed, covered up by many blankets, his body wasted away from illness. His breathing was ragged and heavy. His skin was gray like rain clouds. Death hung around the room. The end was near for my son.

The sunset outside filled the whole room with light. Some of the rays hit the medicine bottles set on the night stand, making them glitter mockingly. It would be days like this when Jackie would go out by the cliffs of Shipwreck Island to watch the sun go down with Elizabeth and her son Will. That is, if he were feeling better. The last time he had gone outside was a month ago.

Then, I heard a groan. I looked down at Jackie and saw that he was beginning to stir. I pulled my hands away from his hair and watched him as his dull brown eyes opened halfway. "Dad?" he whispered. He sounded so weak, so ill. I hushed him and put my right hand by his left cheek, caressing it gently.

"Quiet down, boy," I whispered back. "Go back to sleep."

He let out another soft groan, but he closed his eyes and settled. I let his head gingerly flop to the side as I took away my hand from his cheek. Watching his breast move up and down unevenly for a few moments, I then heard the faint sound of sucking from behind me. I turned around in my seat. It was only Elizabeth, watching me as she held her sleeping toddler in her arms. He had his thumb in his mouth again, his small body snuggled up to his mother's warmth.

"You all right, lass?" I asked her quietly, trying hard to not wake Jackie up.

"I heard Jack talking," she said softly back, rocking Will back and forth.

"Only for about a moment. He's back asleep now," I answered, getting up.

Her golden-brown eyes were suddenly sparkling with tears. "Do you think he's finally turning for the worse?"

I sighed. Elizabeth had always been teary-eyed since Will was born. She constantly looked like she had a bad head cold and sounded like it too. I walked over to her and took Will from her arms. I did not worry about him waking; he was used to my touch. "Go to bed, Bess," I said. "You've done enough for Jackie. I'll tuck Will into bed later."

She gulped and nodded. "Thank you Teague," was the last thing she choked to me before walking down the hall to her bedroom. I watched her pitifully as she did, rubbing Will's back. He slept on peacefully, still sucking on his tiny thumb.

I turned back around and took my seat next to Jackie on the bed. The sun was now sinking quickly, as though being engulfed by quicksand. The room became less bright with each minute as I stared out the window. Then, when there was only one last orange ray of sunlight in the room, I took Jackie's bony hand with my one arm still wrapped around Will, and I began to wonder...

A/N: So, how do you guys like it? Please R&R, telling me what you think about it so far and what I need to work on. Also, the song I'm using for this story is 'Top of the World', by the Dixie Chicks. I think it's the perfect song to fit Teague's and Jack's relationship if you listen closely to the lyrics, so that's why I used it :)


	2. Chapter 2

_I wished it'd been easier, _

_Instead of any longer, _

_I wished I could have stood where you would of been proud, _

_That won't happen now, that won't happen now... _

When I first told Elizabeth and Gibbs about Jackie's illness, they seemed very unnerved by how sudden it had struck him. But out of all of us, Elizabeth was the only one who had been brave enough to shed tears.

"It's-it's not true! It can't be true!" Tears fell thick and fast down her pale face. We were all at Shipwreck Cove, our only safe-haven from the rest of the supporters of the East India Trading Company. It had three years since the epic battle had occurred.

I took Elizabeth by the shoulder. "I'm afraid he's got it, Bess," I said softly, feeling sorry for the lass.

Elizabeth continued to shake her head, her loose, dark blonde locks flying this way and that. "He-he just can't!"

I looked onto Gibbs, desperate for help. He gave me half of a nervous smile and took her shoulders from me. "Now don't worry about all of this, Missus Turner," he said brightly. "We'll take extra good care with Jack. He'll be as right as rain when we're done with him."

But the tears still seem to pour down her face in dozens. I offered her a spotted old handkerchief. She took it and held it close to her mouth and her nose as she began to wail loudly. Gibbs sighed one of his, _well, lassies will be lassies _sighs and muttered something about making chamomile tea. I stepped back a few times, trying to pry myself away from all of the negative energy in the room when I heard a floorboard squeak quietly from behind me. Turning around, I saw Elizabeth's son, Will, a tiny feisty two-year-old lad. He was watching his mother cry, his big brown eyes as round as two pence pieces. As quietly as I could, I grabbed Will's hand and walked him back to his bedroom.

"Paw-Paw Teague, why was Mummy crying?" he asked me as we climbed up the steps.

I did not answer him-I did not want to say that 'Uncle Jack' was dying or anything that might upset him. He had never met his actual father, but Jackie was the closet thing to a father in his eyes. Finally, after carefully planning my words, I said, "We just found out something about Uncle Jack. He's very, very sick."

"Does he have a fever? Mummy always makes me feel better when I have a fever. She gives me medicine," he said in his innocent, childish way.

I smiled, despite myself. "No, it's something much worse than a fever."

Will did not say anything for about a minute for so, deep in thought. "Wrap him up in bandages!" he cried.

"Aye, a bright lad you are," I nodded my head. "We'll try doing that."

As I tucked him into bed, I then said quietly, "Uncle Jack will probably be very sleepy most of the time from now on, Will. That means you'll have to be very quiet. Can you do that?"

"I will, I'll be quiet," Will said in a whisper, motioning his finger to his lips.

"Now before I go, do you need your nappy changed?" I asked him.

Will shook his head. "I can wake up in the middle of the night now if I need to go use the chamber pots."

I smiled, ruffled his hair, and left him so he could drift to sleep. I walked quietly back downstairs to observe what was going on. Elizabeth had stopped sobbing, but silent tears were still glazed on her face as she sipped a cup of tea. Gibbs was ruefully out the window, watching the sunset.

"He's still out there, eh?" I asked him, walking over to him. Gibbs nodded. "He needs to come back in though. It'll start getting cold as soon as the sun goes down," he said.

"I'll get him," I said, shuffling my feet to the door. I pulled my coat close to my person as I opened it and stepped outside. I could feel the cold nipping at my cheeks as I walked around the island, looking for Jackie.

When I did finally find him, the sun was almost down, and my cheeks were numb. Jackie was watching the sun in the horizon on the cliffs, mindlessly twisting a few pieces of grass between his fingers. "You'd better be getting inside, boy," I said to him. "It's starting to becoming more cold out here, and I don't want you more sick than you already are."

Like a bolt of lightening, Jackie jumped up and dropped his pieces of grass to the ground. Usually, my son would be relaxed around the people he was with, but now-either it was because of his diagnosis of his illness, or the fact that I was always nearby-he suddenly became very jumpy, very scared. Me and Jackie had never had a good, strong relationship like most fathers and sons have, but that's mostly my fault.

We stood there awkwardly for a few more moments, waiting for one of us to say something when it grew dark. Then I said, "Jackie...You all right, boy?"

He looked at me strangely, as though he were meeting me for the first time. "With the whole illness thing," I added.

Jack scratched his head. "Don't feel as sick as before," he said. I curled my bottom lip. Something in Jackie's eyes wasn't right; they were dull.

"You aren't lying to me, are you boy?" I asked skeptically.

Jack quickly shook his head no. "No, no. Would I honestly lie to my dear old father?"

I glared at him. "That isn't saying much, Jackie, considering the fact that we're both pirates."

Jack nodded understandingly as we both began walking back to Shipwreck Cove. "How's Asthore taken the news?" Asthore was Jack's nickname for Will. It meant _'my darling' _in Gaelic, his grandmother's native language.

I sighed. "I told him that you weren't dying, just that you were sick."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "What did he say?" he then asked.

"He suggests bandages," I said. Jack gave a small snort of laughter. "There's the Turner in him," he said afterwards. "The same tongue-and-cheek old Bootstrap had."

I gave half a smile, and we continued on back. On the way, I closed my hand around Jack's right elbow lightly. His tumor was still there, callused and bulging. Jack looked at me with contorted eyebrows. I let go, embarrassed. Together, we walked back down to Shipwreck Cove to turn in for the night.

A/N: Thanks to the people who reviewed my first chapter! And also, Pirates of the Caribbean doesn't belong to me. Just to get that all cleared up.


	3. Chapter 3

_There's a whole lot of singing that's never gonna be heard, _

_Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow... _

_Think I broke the wings off that little songbird, _

_He's never gonna fly to the top of the world right now... _

"Teague." Gibbs poked my cheek with his rough fingertip. "Teague, Mistress Ching is here."

I straightened up, groggy from being interrupted from my day dream. It was still night, I was still sitting next to Jackie, and Jackie was still dying. For a moment, I turned to face Mistress Ching, the Pirate Lord of the Pacific Ocean, who was carefully being guided in by Gibbs. I got up to greet her.

"Mistress Ching, you're too kind," I said, taking her hand to show respect.

"How has he been? Has he improved?" she whispered hastily.

I stole a quick glance of Jackie, who was still sleeping. A high-pitched rattle came from his mouth as he inhaled and exhaled. "I'm afraid to say he's not," I said sadly, turning back to her.

"Where are the other Pirate Lords?" she demanded. "They must pay their respects for him."

"I assure you, they are making as much haste as they can. It's difficult to come to a certain place at one time when you're at different locations of the world," I said. "Would you like to-?"

"Yes, please," she nodded, her foggy black eyes unblinking. "Shall we pray to your God as well?"

Gibbs and I exchanged nervous looks. "If you don't mind," I answered finally.

The Mistress nodded again. "We must do as much as we can to insure his survival for the night. Take me to his bedside."

I let go of her, and Gibbs led her to the spot I was sitting in a few moments before. I grabbed the Bible, which laid in the darkness, and handed it to Gibbs as I took my seat on the other side of the bed. It was Mistress Ching holding Jackie's right hand, me holding his left, and Gibbs, who had his hand on Jackie's forehead as he read Psalms thirteen.

"'How long, Lord?'" He read, his voice strong but shaky. "'Will you utterly forget me? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I carry sorrow in my soul, grief in my heart day after day? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look upon me, answer me, Lord, my God! Give light to my eyes lest I sleep in death. Lest my enemy say, "I have prevailed." Lest my foes rejoice at my downfall. I trust in your faithfulness. Grant my heart joy in your help, that I may sing of the Lord, "How good our God has been to me!"'

o0o0o0o0o

Some people may say that the sound of vomiting is the worst sound to ever be heard by human ears. If that includes hearing your son puking, I agree strongly.

Jackie's head came up finally after spewing his breakfast, coughing hard. I was holding his long hair back as Gibbs held a bucket under his mouth. It was his first day of being treated for his illness. The aura in the air felt like something was disturbingly wrong, but according an ancient medical book we dug up from the cellar, Jackie was doing an excellent job so far.

"It's a sin, making something go though something like this," I scolded, shutting the book with a smart snap. "Worse than the disease itself."

"On the contrary, Dad, I'm feeling much better," Jackie said in a thick but sarcastic voice. "I think I'll go for a stroll later on if it weather isn't too chilled."

"Pardon me, but did I just hear a bit of _sass_ in your voice, boy?" I hissed at him, my feelings of sympathy melting away instantly. Gibbs sensed danger and immediately hurried outside to dump the bucket's contents out.

I let Jackie's hair go and rounded on him. "Don't think the way I treat you is going to be any different because of this. Understand?"

"I'll be fine, Dad," Jackie protested, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. In the heat of the argument, we heard a knock at the door. We turned our heads to see who it was. It was Will, at least four or five bandages in his arms. Jackie smiled sweetly at him and motioned him to come in.

"What's that you got in your arms, Asthore?" he asked as Will climbed up onto the bed, next to Jackie.

"Bandages. They'll help make you feel better!" Will grabbed one and took Jackie's arm. Unrolling it, he messily wrapped it around it and tucked it in as he finished.

"I'm feeling better already, doctor," Jackie said, still smiling.

"Wait!" Will cried. "I've got more!"

Taking the second bandage, he wrapped that around Jackie's other arm. Then, he used two more to wrap around his ankles, and wrapped the last one around his head. I stood up and stepped back to take a look and began to snicker; it was a very comical appearance.

"You're going to make a mighty fine doctor one day, Asthore," Jack said, his voice muffled from all the cotton wrapped loosely around his mouth. We could tell he was smiling. Will beamed too, looking very proud of himself.

* * *

A/N: I don't own Psalms or the Bible, obviously :P 


	4. Chapter 4

_Top of the World, _

_I don't have to answer any of these questions... _

_Don't have no God to, teach me no lessons, _

_I come home in the evenin'_, _sit in my chair... _

Things, however, weren't always as perfect as they seemed to be though. Jackie and Elizabeth were always fighting over everything. It didn't matter _what _the particular subject was that was causing them to yell, but they fought long and hard, sometimes for two or three hours at a time.

The first fight they had since Jackie's diagnosis came around mid-October, when the leaves on the trees were beginning to die and turn different colors. It started when Jackie volunteered to help clear the table after dinner. Will and I went outside as they did; I sat in an old rocking chair, playing my guitar as Will played with his Noah's Ark boat. Then, we heard their voices raising slightly with tension, like a volcano waiting to explode. I stopped playing my guitar and Will had a tiny giraffe in his one hand and a elephant in the other as we paused waiting, just waiting...

Then we heard the first plate being thrown. CRASH! It hit the wall. Will dropped the little wooden figurines on the ground and covered his ears as his mother's voice came poring out from the open windows. It was high-pitched and shrill, like a cat whose tail was being tugged.

"_WHY _DO YOU _ALWAYS _HAVE TO BE SO SORE ALL THE TIME!?" she screamed.

"WELL, IT'S NOT _MY _FAULT YOU KISSED ME AND LEFT ME FOR DAVY JONES' LOCKER!" he yelled back.

Oh God, I thought to myself. They're fighting about _that_ again.

"HYPOCRITE!" Elizabeth screeched. "YOU FILTHY HYPOCRITE! I CLEARLY REMEMBER YOU CALLING ME A PIRATE WHEN I DID THAT! THAT'S WHAT _YOU _ARE, JACK, THAT'S WHAT WE'RE BOTH ARE IF YOU HAVEN'T BLOODY NOTICED!"

Jack's voice got angrier and louder. "THAT'S BESIDES THE GODDAMN POINT, LIZZIE! I WILL _NEVER_ FORGIVE YOU, EVER!"

"HYPOCRITE!" she retorted again. The bickering went on for a few minutes, with the occasional sound of plates either being hurled across the room or dropping into a bucket of water to soak. It was times like these I wish I could stop their fighting with the help of my crew or Gibbs, who understood Jackie the most. Both, however, were heading to Tortuga to smuggle medicine back to Shipwreck Island. The trip there and back would take a month each, unless if they got stuck in the ocean because of storms. I sighed wearily and put my guitar to my side as I heard their voices subside.

The first one to emerge from the building was Elizabeth. Her face was red as blood rushed to it, and angry tears clouded her eyes. Walking over to Will, who still had his hands over his ears, she picked him up and cuddled him close to her.

"You hurt my ears," Will said quietly, wrapping his arms around her neck. She kissed his cheek.

"Of course. I'm sorry dearest," she said back, patting his back.

I stood up. "I'll go and talk to him."

"It's fine, Teague," Elizabeth shook her head, her eyes shut tight.

"No, it's not. I'll go knock some sense into him," I headed inside to see what Jackie was doing; he was mumbling curses under his breath as he swept broken pieces of clay into a small pile.

"So, how many plates have you broken this time?" I asked him, leaning against the doorway.

"Two," he said nastily, looking up at me. "Why? You want to yell at me for something else now?"

"Oh stop that!" I snarled.

"What?" he snapped back.

"Your sass, boy!" I folded my arms. "This isn't the time to have idiotic arguments with people!"

"What? Because I'm sick?" Jackie glared at me with his dull, dull brown eyes.

"Not only that, but with the fact that Will's gone and Elizabeth has to take care of their baby. You know she's having a difficult time with it all?" I spat.

"Yeah, but I'm helping raising him, aren't I, since Barty dropped me back into his hell-hole?" He was holding the broom tightly in his hands.

"You love him, don't you?" I asked him.

"Who? Barty?" Jackie looked disgusted.

"No! Asthore!" I cried out.

"Of course! Why?" He was suddenly like a grizzly bear protecting her cubs.

"Then why do you choose to pick fights with his mother when he's right in front of you?" I pointed out.

"Because, Dad! With her complaining and everything-it gets so annoying at times!" Jackie said.

"You see what I mean?" I cried. "That's such a pointless reason why you fight with her all the time!"

Jackie's face was as red as Elizabeth's by now. Unfolding my arms, I said, "Get me a bottle of rum, boy."

The angered look his face disappeared instantly. Instead, he looked suddenly unnerved.

"I said, get me a bottle of rum boy!" I repeated.

He continued to stare at me, suddenly trembling. "You get it yourself!"

"_Excuse me?_" I said angrily. "_What _did you say to me?" And before he could even open his mouth, I remembered how much rum he drank everyday before he got ill and spat, "You know what? I agree with Elizabeth-you _are _a hypocrite!"

The angry look on his face returned as he spat back to me. "Fine!"

He went into another room where we stored extra drink and food and came back with a bottle, almost full to the top with rum. He threw to my chest and began to walk outside. "I just wanted to remind you Dad, of how nasty you can get when you get drunk! I don't want you venting all your anger at Asthore like you did to me and Abigail when we were children!"

I looked back up him, flabbergasted. "Now, Jackie you know I didn't mean-"

"Bugger off, Dad!" Jackie said, turning back to me. "I don't want to risk starting another _pointless argument_, like you said!"

And he turned away and stormed off over to Elizabeth, where they'd watch the sunset, play with Will and pretend they had never fought, like they always did. I walked back outside and took my seat in my rocking chair, sipping on rum and remembering old memories I badly wanted to forget. If you were wondering what Jackie was yelling about how I used to 'vent my anger' on him and his little sister Abigail, let me explain. And to start off, I wasn't that much of a good father when Jackie was a child.

* * *

A/N: Oooooo! So much suspense, haha! Please R&R. And also, if were scratching your heads a little about Barty, I was referring to Bartholomew Roberts, an actual notorious pirate. When Jack was heading towards the Fountain of Youth, they happened to meet sometime, and Bart took him in to his ship for reasons unknown. And also, I apologize for the late update! I had a busy weekend and that sort of thing, you know ;) 


	5. Chapter 5

_One night they called me for supper, _

_but I never got up, _

_I stayed right there, _

_In my chair... _

I never wanted children. I had always kept that in mind since I started pirating. Children would of been too distracting and too difficult to raise, especially because of the fact that I have such a horrible temper. Children, in my point of view, were just a waste of time. But I always kept a vow to myself that if I ended up having a child one day, I'd somehow get into its life. So, when this girl called Ella I remembered sleeping with came towards me, stating that she was carrying my baby, I took her in. I never break any promises to myself.

Jackie was born during a huge typhoon as I was bringing his mother to Madagascar, where she and the baby would live. Holding him as a screaming, tiny bundle in my arms, I remembered stroking his fine dark hair, never forgetting the touch of how soft and fragile it was. To my surprise, he actually quite adorable; he had my eyes. I dropped them off at Madagascar and continued my pirating, stopping by once and a while to see how both of them were doing.

The pain of raising such a helpless little human being never seemed to affect his mother as it did me. Physically and mentally, I was exhausted every time I visited them. I kept thinking to myself, _Oh God, what had I gotten myself into? Why did I spend such a wasteful night, sleeping with a girl, only to throw away a piece of my life? _

Now, you may think I had been cruel. And I absolutely agree; I never wanted children in the first place. But Jackie was not a burden to me. Nor a disappointment. Nor a mistake. I loved my Jackie...He was just an extremely fussy baby, always whipping in and out of my sight, breaking things and such. I soon became irritated and snappy, and you imagine how I could of felt when Ella came up to me yet again and told me we she was expecting our second baby-Pissed off.

So, as you may assume, I turned to what most men in my predicament do-I drank. I drank whatever I could get my hands on; rum, whiskey, ale, everything. It never seemed to be a big problem for Jackie and the rest until I woke up after a night of drinking and noticed Jackie had a nasty scratch of his face. He said that I had done it when I was tipsy, but I denied it. But, honestly, I did not remember what had happened when I was drunk.

Then, when Abigail was born, I completely shunned myself from them for almost three years. I wasn't ready for the responsibility for caring for _two _children, let alone _one. _I just gave that precious baby girl a cold look, suggested a name, and sailed off to sea the next morning. My drinking slowly and steadily got worse. Even though I was miles and miles away from them, my body craved for the feel of the sharp burn in my throat whenever I drank. Then, just as my crew began having second thoughts about me being the captain, horrible news came; Jackie, seven by now, was coughing up blood, a sign of consumption.

Though I already had enough troubles with my addiction, I hurried to Madagascar to be by Jackie's bedside. By the time I arrived, he was bed-ridden, paralyzed and delirious with pain and fever. I stayed there for months, everyday, taking care of him and watching over him. Abigail, who was just only three at the time, was ordered to stay away from Jackie until his health improved. Even though he was slowly getting better day by day, my drinking problems were out of control. My young son was going through a living hell before me, and I felt guilty about avoiding him and his little sister. For once in my life, I felt powerless.

After six months, Jackie was strong enough to go outside again. I held him by his hands as he shakily made his way to the beach and played with Abigail. He had no friends his age; most of them abandoned him when he fell ill. His little sister was his only friend now. Though he looked sad, he looked at me and smiled, signaling that he was happy. I just glared back at him, my heading pounding after another night of drinking. His smile faded as he turned his head away, clearly hurt.

Then, as if two birds were hit with one stone, consumption hit our family again; this time, Ella and Abigail were the unlucky victims. Jackie, fully recovered, knew that I was unfit to take care of them. He took care of them all by himself, bathing them, washing their clothes and bed sheets and dosing them with medicine and making them food. When he'd had a little time left, he take care of me; he'd clean up all the messes I made when I was drunk and covering me up in a quilt as I laid, passed-out, in the middle of the floor. It was stressful work on his tiny, aching person, but it was paying off nether less. Ella was regaining her strength everyday, yet for Abigail-sweet, little innocent Abigail- it seemed as though nothing could relieve her fever-stricken, blood-soaked body. In weeks, she had died. I would _never_ Jackie's screams when he had found her lifeless body in her bed: "MY ABBY'S DEAD! MY ABBY'S DEAD! MY ABBY'S DEAD!"

The funeral was the next day. Anyone who was close enough to us came. Ella, who was still quite ill, was absent from the ceremony. Jackie's only source of comfort came from Captain Chevalle, who held his hand as I read from the Bible. I tried my hardest to only keep my eyes on the verses, for I heard an occasional sniff coming towards him. From the corner of my eye, I saw that his face was magenta. I was glad he wasn't making quite a scene for once, but that all ended as one of my crew members and I picked up Abigail's coffin to put in the ditch we had dug earlier that day. He went to hysterics, sobbing aloud and trying to loosen himself from Chevalle's grip. I let one of my crew members take over burying as I grabbed him and took him back to the house. He was screaming at the top of his lungs and kicking his thin legs as I dragged him up the stairs and threw him into his room. I closed the door and locked it as he started to punch it from the other side, still screaming loudly.

"NO! NO! I WANT TO SEE HER ONE LAST TIME! I'M NOT READY!" he bawled, his voice muffled against the door.

"YOU SHOULD OF PREPARED YOURSELF WHEN SHE WAS DYING IN THE FIRST PLACE, BOY!" I yelled over his screams. "YOU KNEW YOU WERE FAILING!"

And just like that, I left him alone as he cried and cried and cried into the night.

A year later, Jackie had caught consumption again, only this time, Ella and I were greatly afraid for his life . He was having nightmares, where'd he wake up sitting up in his bed, holding his hands over his ears, screaming and shaking his head from side to side. He finally recovered when he was eleven, scarred and traumatized by not only his illness, but by me as well. A few years afterward, he ran away. That was when I really realized how dangerous my drinking had become and felt ashamed by it. I now only drink a bottle of rum or grog now and then, but not enough to get me tipsy. Now that I know that I may lose him for good this time, I find it harder and harder to not get drunk to dull my 'pain'.

I'm not ready.

A/N: The lyrics reflect for how Teague neglect Jack when he needed him most, which tests have shown that neglecting a child scars them for life. Thanks for reading, and Happy Halloween!


	6. Chapter 6

_There's a whole lot of singing that's never gonna be heard, _

_Disappearing every day without so much as a world somehow..._

_Think I broke the wings off that little songbird, _

_He's never gonna fly to the top of the world right now... _

Will giggled. "Tell me about daddy again, Uncle Jack. Is he actually out at sea right now?"

It was now February. Elizabeth and I were planning another expedition, this time to Africa. Jackie smiled and coughed, running his hands through Will's curly hair. "Aye, and the captain of the _Flying Dutchman _as well."

Gibbs had come back from Tortuga a few weeks before with Jackie's medicine, which helped him cope with the pain of his illness. His health, however, had declined. I turned back to Elizabeth, who was staring off into space. I snapped my fingers in front of her face. "Bess, come now, love, we need to talk about this expedition!"

From outside, we all heard thunder. She blinked and turned her head back to me. "Oh–I'm sorry," she yawned, her eyes drooping a bit. Not only was Jackie sick, she seemed to be falling ill as well.

"Alright then," I pointed to Madagascar, "how about this. You and your crew sail a week beforehand. I'll come afterwards, just to see if Jackie'll be all right with Gibbs when we're gone."

Jackie looked highly offended. "Dad-" he said, sounding embarrassed.

"That'll be fine," said Elizabeth, rubbing her eyes. "And Will? Who will take care of Will, since Gibbs will be taking care of Jack?"

"Now, listen!" Jack said. "I'm not _that _sick!"

We all heard thunder from outside again, this time accompanied by lightening. The dog that used to be in the old prison at Port Royal jumped up and barked at the window. Elizabeth groaned loudly and clenched to both sides of her head, looking greatly stressed. Jackie and Will stared at her as I stood up and walked over to her.

"Bess, don't you fret this way," I told her sternly.

"I'm not fretting!" she cried, standing up. "I'm going to make dinner!"

She walked away, into the kitchen. Jackie coughed again and looked at me. "What's gotten into her?"

"How should I know?" I shot back. "You're the one who claims he has an intuitive sense of the female creature." 

He grinned stupidly.

"I'm making chicken!" Elizabeth came out again, holding a jar of flour. Her messy, knotted hair flew back, past her shoulders. "Where's Gibbs? Is he still cutting fire wood? Go outside and tell him to cut off one of the chicken's heads!"

She turned back around to head into the kitchen, only to get caught in her skirts and fall down. There was the sound of clay breaking and the whoosh of flour going everywhere. Will began laughing and Jackie began coughing heavily as Gibbs walked in, holding a couple pieces of fire wood. "What's going on in here?" he cried, half-surprised and half-amused of what he was seeing.

I wiped flour off my face smartly and didn't even bother answering him. He dropped the wood next to the fire and came over to Jackie's aid. I went over to the table and began wiping off flour from the maps when I head a sob. I squinted my eyes and saw that Elizabeth was sitting on the floor and had hidden her face in her knees. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, and some of her fingertips were bleeding. I scowled.

"Bess, there's no need to cry over this. We can clean this up," I said, but she just shook her head and continued to sob.

"No, no!" she said through her muffled sobs. "I'm useless! I'm useless!"

Gibbs and Jackie exchanged nervous glances. I could tell that they were clueless on knowing what to do. I tried hard to act as if nothing were wrong. I took her hands and helped her stand up, but the wails that wracked through her whole body were so intense that her knees buckled. I caught before she could crumble back onto the floor again.

"I can't do anything right!" she moaned.

I breathed in heavily through my nose. I was starting to get annoyed by now.

"Alright Bess," I told her, turning her towards the stairs. I helped her walked up the steps and forced her into bed.

"Just sleep for a while. Come back when you've calmed down," I said, putting her blankets on her. She curled up into the ball and keened to herself. She looked so pitiable, like a beaten dog. I touched her hair. "Maybe we can do something with these knots," I grunted, trying to not project sympathy. Then I left her alone to gather herself up.

I began to fret at the thought of the others' reactions to Elizabeth's outburst as I walked downstairs. She was our Pirate King, naturally; a leader, a fighter. Then why the sudden tears? I knew she was struggling since Will's birth. I could imagine it would be difficult to be a single mother, taking care of a rambunctious two-year-old. But she had Jack, who helped take care of Will despite his illness and the fact he and her had bitter feelings for one another (and showed it very much). Maybe she had inherited it from her mother, possibly? It happens sometimes, I heard, with mothers; the strain of their responsibilities as a parent had led them to develop insanity. Was Elizabeth actually becoming crazy?

So many questions, so little stairs.

When I reentered the room, everything seemed so wrong; the floor and the walls were filthy and covered in flour, and Will was crying. Gibbs was comforting him as best as he could it looked like, as Jackie was gulping down medicine straight from the bottle. Pulling the flask away from his lips, his eyes caught mine, and he turned abnormally pale. I walked over to him.

"So, what's wrong?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "I don't know, but whatever it is it's not good."

"Is she...you know..." Jackie said uncomfortably, as if I would slap him if he asked.

"I don't know," I knew what he was talking about. "It made be a possibility."

Jackie shook his head. "Never would I imagine...Lizzie, going insane..." He stopped and looked me in the eye, serious. "If she is, we need to get Asthore out of here."

I was token aback. "Will? Why?"

"I think she might try to hurt him. She might kill him and won't remember," Jackie explained.

"But she loves him," I said.

"Yes, and so do I," he said with a bit of stiffness in his voice, "but still, if she's truly going off her deep end, she'll become a danger to us, let along herself..."

A small, quivering blot of crimson formed on the tip of his nose. I took out my handkerchief and gave it to him. "Quit fretting, boy, you're making yourself get a nosebleed."

Jackie took the handkerchief and pinched his nostrils with it. "Bugger. Thanks, Dad."

We had no dinner that night, as we cleaned and swept the room free of any flour. We finished a quarter to nine, around Will's bedtime. Yawning, he made his way upstairs to bed. Afterwards, we all sat down and made ourselves comfortable, easing our aching joints. It must of been only about thirty seconds later when we all heard a high-pitched scream. We jumped up to our feet in unison as Will ran down the stairs, sheer terror plastered across his face. I bent down and took him by the sides.

"Why, what ever is the matter, Will?" I asked him.

He bursted into tears. "Mama's gone!"

Terrified silence followed this outburst. Elizabeth? Gone?

"What do you mean? She isn't in her bed, Will?" I asked, now frightened.

He nodded and choked through his sobs, "I couldn't find her anywhere! I'm sorry, Paw-Paw Teague! I didn't mean to make her that mad! I didn't mean to!"

"Of course not, Will, you don't need to apologize. You didn't mean to make her mad, none of us did," I solaced him as I looked desperately to the others. "Gibbs, look around the house. I'll look outside. Jackie, take Will to bed and stay with him. And also, your nose is bleeding again."

Slightly annoyed, Jackie touched the tip of his nose, and, sure enough, blood was leaking again from his nostrils. He took Will by the hand as the other hand covered his face back upstairs. Gibbs lit a lantern and began searching the dark kitchens as I lit another and went for my coat.

As soon as I stepped outside, the heavy winds came blowing furiously towards me and, if it weren't for the fact the candle was bordered with glass, it would surely go out. I grabbed on to my hat and began searching throughout the island. I checked under all the docks I could squeeze under and the rubble of rotting boats and half-sunken ships. It was a bad night for searching for a possibly-crazed girl, and, with irritation, I rechecked everywhere I looked before I almost went back inside, hoping that Gibbs had found her. But, instead, I heard a voice faintly floating across the angry winds. It seemed as though it was coming from behind me. I turned around, hoping to find the source of the voice. It was coming from under one of the more rotted docks. Holding up the lantern to my face, to walked to it and found a gruesome sight.

Elizabeth was sitting under the dock, her arms wrapped around her legs, her legs tucked under her chin. She was soaking wet, and, what disturbed me most, nude. She acted as though I was not there, continuing to sing something under her breath. Her face and eyes were glazed, as though she were in a trance.

"Bess," I said loudly, hoping to wake her, "Bess, come now, wake up."

But she did not; she did, however, turn her head to me, continuing to sing. She looked as though she could look right through me. I grew more horrified; this was not the Elizabeth I knew, nor anyone. Setting the lantern firmly beside, I took her by the wrists and began to shake her.

"Bess, WAKE UP!" I was now yelling. It took time to her to come back. After a long time, she blinked, and, as though spell of insanity melted with the rain into the sand, she seemed to become normal again. Her eyes grew wide and she gasped. She looked terrified, humiliated. I let go of her wrists, and she covered her face as she started to sob.

"What's happening to me, Captain?" she wailed. "What's happening to me?"

I did not answer her as I draped my coat onto her shoulders. I led her into the house, leaving the lantern outside to burn out.


	7. Chapter 7

_I wished I had known you, _

_Wished I had shown you, _

_All of the things I, _

_Was on the inside..._

The grandfather clock outside in the hallway rang two times, signaling that it was two o' clock in the morning. I was still sitting by Jackie, holding onto his lifeless hand. I could feel it grow less warm with every minute that passed by. His labored breathing wracked throughout the room, reminding me that it was hard for him to breathe now that he was finally dying. I let go of his hand and walked out of the room, only to check on Will.

He, Will, was sound asleep. His mother slept next to him on her stomach, her arm wrapped limply around his stomach. She must of gotten up earlier and snuck into his room, seeking comfort. I gave a sleepy smile to them and hurried back into Jackie's room.

There, I took off my boots and the belts that hung around my waist. I was so tired, tired of worrying and waiting and watching my son, who was so ill. I rubbed my kohl-lined eyes, letting it smear across my cheeks. So, so tired.

I laid next to Jackie on the bed and somewhat mimicked Elizabeth and rested my head on his shoulder. I could hear his heartbeat, but only just. I closed my eyes, letting myself rest. Only for a few minutes. Just a few minutes, I told myself. I drifted off, into a world I know long ago, where Jackie and Abigail played on the beach without a care...

o0o0o0o0o0o

"What were you thinking?" I asked Elizabeth when we got back to the house. In fact, I kept asking her that; I was so furious with her, I could not think of anything else to say.

Elizabeth sat in a chair, her head bowed down so that her drying hair would cover her face. Jackie sat next to her, his arm wrapped around her.

"Well?" I bawled. She recoiled beneath the wool blanket that was wrapped around her. "You don't know how lucky you are we–_I_– found you."

"Dad," Jackie says, quite calmly. "Can I talk?"

I closed my mouth tightly and nodded curtly. I had yelled myself hoarse anyways. Jackie turned to Elizabeth. "Now, Liz, we know we love you," he said.

She muttered something under her breath. He stared at her for a few seconds, then said, "Right.

"But Liz, we think you're a little, well...stressed. Since we all found out I was...sick...you've grown worse. To the fact that we think you're going to do something that we're all going to regret you doing. Whether to you or to someone else. Will, possibly," he sounded business-like. "Especially him. We think...because of what you did tonight...we think it's best that...that we remove Will and temporarily put him under the care of another Pirate Lord. Just until you get better."

With utter disgust, she sharply got up from her seat and began pacing the room. Jackie said, "Now, Lizzie, don't be sore about this. It's not another argument we're having, it's for the better. Just until you get better, I said, no exceptions. I promise, and for the first time, I'm keeping it."

"You need to stop this, Bess," I piped up, my voice still a little hoarse. "You just _have _to. We'll take care of you."

She stopped in front of me and looked at me with pure hatred, as though she just wanted to grab her cutlass and slash me into hundreds of bloody pieces. Instead, she turned back around and punched the table-top with all her might.

"Liz!" Jack cried, jumping to his feet. Elizabeth grabbed her swollen fist and made a choking noise, then screamed in pain. She collapsed onto the floor and curled up into a ball, shaking.

"Bess," I said loudly, worried, as Jackie bent down to help her. He looked up at me, and, for the first time, I saw how his illness had affected him; his eyes were dull and bloodshot. He looked as though he hadn't slept in ages, and lines were etched all around his eyes. He was pale--grayer than storm clouds, and you could see the veins in his tattooed and thin arms. His teeth grew yellow from induced vomiting, and he trembled all the time. He looked as though he had aged twenty years in the short period of time we found out his illness. My throat and eyes grew sore at the sight of him.

"It's not broken, but I think we'll need some leeches for the swelling," he told me. "And rum too; she's in a great deal of pain."

Once again, I saw blood form around the edges of his nostrils. "Jackie," I tried to tell him, but he said quietly, without looking at me, "I know, Dad."


	8. Chapter 8

_I pretend to be sleeping, _

_When you come in in the morning, _

_To whisper goodbye, go to work in the rain, _

_I don't know why, don't know why... _

We locked up Elizabeth in her bedroom and removed any sharp things so that she wouldn't hurt herself. I felt guilty; I felt as though I was keeping her as a prisoner, something that she did not deserve to be. Jackie kept reminding that it was the right thing to do, and he was right, in a way. We only came into her room three times a day-in the morning, to give her breakfast, in the afternoon, for lunch, and in the evening, for supper. But, also, in another sick sort of way, she _was _a prisoner, a prisoner in her own home.

Afterwards, we took extra precautions upon ourselves, and we decided to send Will away with Captain Villanueva until Elizabeth got better. It was a heartbreaking decision, but Will needed to be in an environment that was not full of overwhelming sadness. Besides, he was only two years old; no child anywhere should understand death and despair at such a young age. Without him, and the house all of a sudden being a hospital and an insane asylum all at once, it seemed there was no trace of hope left in the air. Instead, it felt dead, dull.

It took weeks for Elizabeth to utter a sign that told me she was still there. It was one afternoon, in the earliest days of spring. I brought up her lunch and opened the door to her room. She was sitting quite still in a chair, looking out the window. She did not acknowledge me as I stepped in, until I said softly, "Bess, lunch."

She turned to me and stared. She had not eaten enough for the past few days, I could tell; her red, brown eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets. I sighed, put the tray on her bed, and kneeled next to her. Taking her hands, I said, "Look at what's happened, Bess. You've gotten so ill, I don't think I know you anymore."

I let go of her hands, this time standing up and cupped her left cheek with my right hand. I caressed it a little, saying, "Can you even talk anymore?"

Her left hand enclosed onto mine, though her eyes remained unblinking. I paused for a few moments, then let my hand flop lifelessly to my side. Oh, well. I took the tray from her bed and set it on her lap. Walking away, I took her porridge bowl from breakfast and headed downstairs. I was in-between the doorway when I hear her say, "I want to hold my baby."

I turned sharply around. Elizabeth was standing up, holding the tray with both hands. Her eyes were bulging with tears as she repeated, "I want to hold my baby. I want to hold him!"

My jaw dropped, flabbergasted. I managed to grunt, "Of course, Bess. Maybe when you're a little bit better, alright?"

She pursed, her lips a thin, straight line across her face. But she nodded obediently, her hands shaking. Before shutting the door, I added, "You need to eat more. Promise that you'll finish your lunch."

She nodded again. I gave her a small smile as I closed the door and locked it. Finally, I had something to be satisfied about; Elizabeth was still inside of herself, waiting for her son to come back into her arms. I quickly checked on Jackie, who was lying on his bed, passed-out after another cession of treatment, before coming downstairs, humming. Gibbs sat at the table with a bottle of rum. He looked up at me when I came in, bewildered. "What's got you in a merry mood, Captain?" was his question.

I bent over and gave the bowl to the prison dog, who happily began lapping up hardening porridge. When I straightened up I said, "Bess spoke to me up there. She said she wanted Will!"

Gibbs's eyes widened. "Mary, Mother of God," he whispered.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Even though Elizabeth's condition was improving, Jackie's health was growing far worse. He was spending more days in bed more and more, too sick and sore to even move. His skin glistened with sweat as he laid on his bed, limp. Even though he was suffering from less nosebleeds, the gums in his mouth would sometimes burst out with blood, and it would trickle from the sides of his lips as he slept with his mouth open.

The final turning point was about five weeks ago, when Will came back. Elizabeth, now cured of melancholy, took him to the cliffs to watch the sun set, like in the old times. Jackie tagged along with them. Fortunately, he was having a good day with his illness, which was rare nowadays. They returned about fifteen minutes after the sun had set, and everyone and everything was in good spirits.

The next morning, however, was a yet another sudden blow for all of us. I walked in, hoping that Jackie would join us for breakfast. Instead, I saw only Elizabeth sitting by the fire, holding Will so tightly, it was a miracle he could even breathe. I began to worry immediately. "Bess?" I said loudly.

She turned her head. Her face was pale, and she looked visibly shaken, as if someone had struck her across the face. I felt my heart skip a beat as I asked, "What's happened to Jackie?"

She looked down and shook her head. "Gibbs is upstairs, taking care of him," she said quietly, a tremble in her voice. "He's gotten worse."

Worse? _Worse? _

"How could it be?" I said with disbelief, stepping back. I know I wouldn't get an answer out of her; no one knew how he had possibly gotten worse. I turned and hurried upstairs, literally stomping on the wooden steps.

Gibbs was leaning over Jackie, his pocket watch in his left hand and his right hand enclosed around Jackie's wrist. An unused bucket and bleeding bowl laid next to them. Gibbs let out a sigh, let go of Jackie's wrist and placed the watch back in his pocket. He turned to me and shook his head.

"He has a fever, and his pulse is racing," he said to me ruefully. He bent down and grabbed the bucket and the bleeding bowl. He turned back to me, looking greatly saddened. I shook my head. No. No. This could not be happening to Jackie. Not yet.

"I'm afraid it's his time," continued Gibbs. "We need nature to take its course, Teague."

"But-" I said, but he cut in, "'But' won't do us any good this time, Captain."

He left without another sound. I gritted my teeth and turned to Jackie. He laid in his bed, panting, his eyes closed tightly. The red bandanna that was usually wrapped around his forehead laid next to him on the night-stand, folded up neatly by a bowl of water. I walked by his bedside and picked up the rag in it and tried to wipe his face. He squeezed his eyes shut even more and moaned.

"Not now, Dad," he whispered, slumping a little to the left.

"I want to help. You feel like fire," I scolded him, despite myself.

"But Dad-" Jackie moaned, but I turned his face towards me with my one hand and wiped his face off with the soaking rag. He put his thin hand on my wrist and weakly pushed it away, opening his dull, dull brown eyes just a sliver.

"Not now Dad," he whispered again. "Not now."


	9. Chapter 9

'_Cause everyone's singing, we just wanna be heard, _

_Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow... _

_Wanna grab a hold to that little songbird, _

_Take 'em for a ride, to the top of the world right now... _

"Teague." It was Elizabeth, shaking my shoulder. "Wake up."

I opened my eyes and immediately realized that I had slept 'til morning. I sat up in bed, horrified, and turned to Jackie. Elizabeth shushed me and took my shoulder again. "He's still asleep," she whispered. "But by a bit. There's coffee downstairs. I'll look after him."

I looked sadly down at Jackie. He laid there, on the bed, so still. I wanted to stay there so badly. Elizabeth rubbed my back gingerly. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll be here if something happens."

I blinked hard and nodded. I had been there all night; besides, everyone needed time with him, just to say their goodbyes. I got up, put my belts back on, and headed downstairs.

I entered the kitchen. The fire was burning low. Gibbs was sitting at the table, but he did not greet me or even picked up his head. After taking a cup of coffee, I took a seat across from him and watched the steam rise up into the air. I didn't feel thirsty; I couldn't feel anything.

Then, Gibbs spoke. "You know, Cap'n, he'd always tell me about he felt like ye didn't care about him."

"I know." I said, my jaw aching. "I didn't show it all that much."

Another pause.

"Well..." he said, "do ye, ye know...regret it?"

I snorted. "What do you think?" My voice was thick, and my hands began to tremble. "It's too late to start caring now, Mister Gibbs. He's too far gone."

The last part was one of the most difficult things I had ever willed myself to say. We stayed there in silence for another few moments. Then, I spoke again.

"Do you think it's too late?" I whispered. Gibbs's eyes grew wide, and his mouth dropped open. I contorted my eyebrows. Then, another voice-a voice I hadn't heard in years-drawled behind me, "Aye, it'd be too late for all of that now, ain't it, Captain Teague?"

Hector Barbossa. The man that stole my son's ship, the _Black Pearl. _The bastard! I whipped out my gun, stood up, and pointed it to his face. He remained unperturbed, however, and stood as still as a statue with his arms crossed against his chest.

"You." My finger was the trigger. "Get out my house. You stole my son's ship, and now look what's happened to him!"

He smiled and snickered. "Still have that stick up your arse, don't ye?"

"What do you want here?" I ignored the fact that he had just insulted the Keeper of the Code.

"Me? I was only here to give ye my sympathies and to say how much of a loss it is that ye son has token for the worse, but by the way ye have your pistol shoved in me face makes me unable to. So, I shall just go on my merry way, shall I?" He turned around to leave.

The hostile feeling I just felt melted away, and I felt numb again. I sighed and lowered my gun. "Thank you, Barbossa."

He turned around quickly, looking rather surprised. I sat back down in my seat. "Sit for awhile. Your crew won't mind, would they?"

He did not answer me, but he remained rooted in his spot. "How is the little sparrow doing?" he asked.

"As you could imagine," I said dully. "Did you want to come and see him?"

Before an answer was spoken, Elizabeth came flying down the stairs. He hair was flying everywhere. "Teague, what's-?" She paused as she saw Barbossa and gasped.

I held up my hand. "It's all right, Elizabeth. He's here for Jack. Go back upstairs."

"No, it's fine," said Barbossa. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. "And how is the Missus Turner faring? I heard that you fell ill as well."

She stared at him, pulling her hand away. "I'm quite all right now, Captain Barbossa. I'm fine." She looked at me and Gibbs, pink in the face. "Excuse me, but I need to look after Jack," she said, then hurried upstairs.

"You must excuse her," I said. "She's still quite jumpy after her ailment."

Barbossa nodded. "I understand."

Just then, we all heard a loud gasp come from upstairs, in Jackie's room. We all paused, listening. The only thing I could hear was the sound of my racing heartbeat in my ears. Elizabeth came down the stairs yet again, looking like she was in a great hurry. She seemed very excited about something, and my heartbeat became even more faster.

"Jack! He woke up!" she screeched, grinning. "He woke up and spoke to me!"

We all gasped. Gibbs then stood up and made the sign of the cross across himself, muttering, "Mary, Mother of God," once again.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Don't be silly, Bess. Jackie's dying."

"No! No, I wasn't imagining this, Teague!" she said excitedly, bobbling up and down in her spot. "I saw it with my own eyes!"

"But Jackie-" I tried to say, but she interrupted, "Come upstairs with me, and you'll see!"

Gibbs and I eyed one another, but Barbossa was already following Elizabeth upstairs. We nodded our heads and hurried behind them.

When we entered the room, Jackie was groaning. His eyes were open halfway. Adrenaline burst into my veins, and I pushed myself in front of everyone. I reestablished my seat and cupped his face with my hands. "Jackie? Jackie, are you awake? Are you all right? What do you need?"

He groaned again, then slurred, "Dad..."

"Yes," I said quietly; I couldn't help but to smile. "It's Dad, Jackie. And Elizabeth's here, and Gibbs...even-"

Barbossa, Elizabeth and Gibbs quickly ran their fingers across their throats, signing me to not say Barbossa's name.

Jackie slurred again. "Asthore..."

"He's asleep in the other room, Jack," said Elizabeth. "Do you want me to go get him for you?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he nodded. Elizabeth rushed out of the room, and a moment later, she came back in, carrying a sleepy-eyed Will. "Here's Will, Jack," she said loudly. "He's been waiting for you to get better."

Jackie smiled a little bit and stretched him right arm a bit. Elizabeth laid Will next to him, and Jack enclosed him in a limp one-armed hug. "Asthore."

Will's eyes were shining as he said, "Uncle Jack, are you all better now? I want to play with you."

"Maybe later. I'm still tried," yawned Jackie, and he smiled again. He closed his eyes and pulled Will closer to him. "My Asthore."

o0o0o0o0o0o

Later on that day, I sat by the window in Jackie's room. He had fallen back asleep after Barbossa left. His chest moved slowly up and down to the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. He looked so peaceful. I turned back to the window and watch the sunset. Just like the night before, the whole entire sky was an kaleidoscope of pinks, reds, oranges, yellows and violets. I smiled and watched for a few more moments before slowly turning back to Jackie. Then, I got up and sat by his bedside.

"Jackie," I whispered. I laid my right hand on his left cheek and caressed it gently. "Can you wake up for a minute, boy?"

He groaned and opened his eyes. I did not say anything for a few moments, but I stared into his eyes. Even though they were dull, they shined like they used to do in the sunset. Then, I whispered, "I love you, Jackie."

He looked at me like I had gone insane for a few moments. But, he closed his eyes and drooped his head to the left. "Thanks, Dad."

I smiled and let go of his cheek. I sat back in my seat by the window and continued to stare at the sunset. It was melting away now, beyond the cliffs and hills and the horizons the surrounded Shipwreck Cove. I blinked back the stinging feeling in my eyes. Even though I had just said what he'd been wanting to hear from me for the longest time, I knew it would not make much of a difference. Jackie did not have that much time left. He would soon eventually die-days, weeks, months, or even a year if he was lucky-but saying what I've been meaning to say gave me glitter a hope, some comfort. At least he would die knowing that I cared for him. And I smiled, despite myself. Watching as the sun went down, I thought,

My, I have never seen a finer sunset in my whole life...

o0o0o0o0o0o

_To the top of the world, to the top of the world, _

_to the top of the world, to the top of the world, _

_to the top of the world, to the top of the world, _

_to the top of the world, to the top of the world..._


End file.
